


Danganronpa - Aftermath

by Zoidstar85



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoidstar85/pseuds/Zoidstar85
Summary: It's been five years since the Jabberwock Island incident. Hajime has moved on from his traumatic experience, most of his friends still comatose and under close watch from a local technological institute. However, Hajime's experiences have left him dealing with a potentially new kind of despair...One-shot story; not meant to be continued. But I may in the future.Rated M because its Danganronpa.





	Danganronpa - Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the most off-beat thing I've ever written. At least for me. I tend to write mostly science fiction and silly comedies, as well as multiple combinations of such things. But, this was still great practice, mostly an attempt to break away from the things that I usually write about. Hopefully you enjoy it. Or not, I'll probably never look at this again. BTW, really hating this website's atrocious layout. Got to do another two hours of editing just to reformat my shit on here. Seriously AO3... It's 2018... Get your shit together...

"Never ever forget about me, even when you get out of here..."

"Hajime..."

"Hajime..."

"Hajime!"

I woke up with a jerk, my head dangling over the now-cold breakfast that sat on the table in front of me. I felt someone gently shaking my shoulder; Hana Tanako. She gave me a worried look as she knelt down beside me.

"You had another episode again, didn't you Hajime."

I looked away from her. "I'll be fine."

She threw her arms around my neck.

"I'll stay home today," Hana whispered to me. "We'll drop the orders off at the post office together and spend the whole day watching TV."

I gently pried her off and shook my head.

"It'll be fine, I can reschedule!" She insisted.

Hana was a freelance artist. Her main job was designing and selling prints and whatever merchandise she could stick her paintings on online, but business was unreliable; some months were good, while others were abysmal in terms of sales.

I stood up and walked over to her latest masterpiece, a large ten by twelve canvas with a vibrant forest scene painted on its surface in warm, earthy colors. The corner contained her autographed in neatly-printed kanji. I gingerly picked it up and handed it to her.

"You've worked too hard to put this off," I told her. "This is your big break. I'll be fine, I've got a therapy session today, anyway."

Hana frowned.

"I'll be home as quick as I can."

She looked over at a small pile of packages that were wrapped, labeled, and ready to be dropped off at the post office.

"Don't forget to drop these off at the post office. Oh! That reminds me!"

Hana pulled a check out of her pocket and tried to hand it to me, but I refused. Slightly frustrated, she shoved it into my hands.

"I can't take this, Hana," I told her.

"Yes, you can!" She told me sternly. "You work hard, and thus should receive compensation!"

I frowned; ever since we shut down Ultimate Despair, things have been hard on me. I've had... spells, which has made keeping a job hard for me. I met Hana shortly after; she moved into the apartment next door to mine. We got to be close friends, and once she learned I was struggling with finding a job, she hired me as an "assistant shipping associate" for her online business. Not long after that, we started a relationship and moved in together.

I reluctantly took Hana's check; we'd been together almost two years, and I had already learned that there's no arguing with her. I still hated taking money from her. She needed it just as badly as I did. Hana gently smiled as I folded it up and stuck it in my front shirt pocket.

"Be sure you leave early enough to cash it."

"Yeah. I will," I answered, glancing down at my watch; 8:15. "Hey, you better get going! You'll be late for your train!"

I grabbed Hana's train pass off the kitchen bar, but instead of taking it, she wrapped her arms around my neck and embraced me.

"You better take it easy," she said quietly. "I worry about you."

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders.

"I know. Dr. Brannen says I'm making progress." We hugged for another minute or so. "I have to call Cybertech this morning. I think they're interested in hiring me on full-time."

Hana frowned.

"I wish you'd forget about finding a job and work full-time for me. That way we could both just stay home all day together, you and me. Once I get my big break, I can afford to pay you full time."

"You better leave, or you're going to be late."

I pried Hana off of me, handed her a piece of toast, and gently guided her towards the door.

"I love you!" She said cheerfully, giving me a peck on the cheek as she ran out the door juggling her painting and breakfast.

"I love you, too!" I called after her as she rushed out the door.

Now, it was my turn to start the day. I looked at my list of things to do that Hana had left for me. Call Cybertech Industries back about that job opening at nine, drop today's orders off at the post office at ten-thirty, therapy session with Dr. Brannen at 11, then home in time for a lunch date with Hana. If she didn't get the commission. But I knew she would; they'd been in contact with her for too long, often calling on a daily basis in an almost-desperate attempt to make a same-day appointment.

That's why I confidently crossed off "lunch" and wrote "dinner" in its place.

I picked up my cell phone and dialed Cybertech's phone number. I had put in an application with them recently. They were some kind of up-and-coming technology business, but that was about all I knew, as I only skimmed over their "about us" page on their business website. I wasn't great with computers or most technology, really; Hana's been trying to teach me Photoshop, and it still takes me five minutes to pull up the web browser. But I hoped I could at least get on as a janitor or sorting files.

I heard three rings, and was met with a cheerful-sounding woman on the other end.

"Ah, Mr. Hinata. How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I was just calling-"

"About your application, yeah." the woman interrupted. "I was just about to call you in regards to that. We looked at your credentials, Mr. Hinata, and unfortunately we don't think you'll be a good fit for the positions you were interested in."

My heart sank.

"Oh... I'm so-"

"However, we do think you'll be a great fit for our latest research project. It's only a few weeks long, but if you're successful, you will be promised a full-time salary with full benefits."

"Wait, what?"

"That's right, Mr. Hinata. Starting pay is sixty-five hundred yen an hour over a period of four to six weeks, depending on how the project pans out."

"Sixty-five hundred?"

"That's right. Are you interested?"

I hesitated for a moment, but only because I was both surprised and overjoyed.

"Absolutely!"

"Fantastic! I'll put your name down and call you back in the next day or so to schedule your entrance physical. We should have everything finalized shortly and we'll call you about your schedule. We're glad to have you aboard, Mr. Hinata!"

"Th-thank you so much, ma'am! I'll keep my cell on at all times!"

"You're very welcome. Goodbye, Mr. Hinata."

"Bye."

The phone hung up, but I barely noticed. I was so elated. Their offer was incredibly generous; I couldn't wait to tell Hana when she got home. For the first time since I could remember, I felt a great weight lift off my shoulders.

I slipped my tie around my neck and unfolded the little hand cart I used to wheel packages to the post office. I started stacking them in it, when the power went off; cheap-ass landlord.

"Fuse must've blown," I muttered, annoyed.

I fumbled around in the dark to look for the flashlight. The apartments were nice, but the electrical wiring was long overdue for an upgrade, so outages were common in the building. Just as I found my way to the junk drawer in the kitchen, a dim light clicked on in the den, followed by the hiss of TV static.

"Hajime," a soft voice called to me.

I froze as my hair stood on end. I forgot about resetting the fuses, grabbed the flashlight, and cautiously made my way to the den.

As I tiptoed through the dining room, I could see the faint glow of the TV. My flashlight did very little to illuminate the inky blackness that had engulfed the little apartment so suddenly.

"Hajime," the voice whispered again.

The voice was soft, but this time, I recognized it instantly.

"Nanami?" I asked aloud.

Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer... I was almost positive it was her voice. I hadn't seen or heard from her since the Hope's Peak incident for obvious reasons. But I was absolutely sure it was her voice.

I crept into the living room as quietly as I could. The TV went dark and fell silent the moment I stepped through the entryway. I swept my light across the perimeter of the den; nothing.

"I must be hearing things," I muttered, lowering my guard.

Suddenly, the TV clicked on by itself again. It filled the room with a glowing blue light and the eerie hiss of TV static.

Alarmed, I spun around. I stared at the TV, trying to see why it came on by itself. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could make out a silhouette in the static. The hissing static slowly morphed into a whine as the silhouette became clearer and clearer. Puzzled, I leaned in to get a better look.

I was almost level with the screen when a pale hand slapped the screen. The hand imprinted itself on the screen, much like someone pressing their hand against a window pane. I watched in horror as an extremely familiar face slowly materialized from the static; it was Chiaki!

"Chiaki!" I yelled.

She had a look of absolute terror across her face as she frantically clawed at the screen. I put my hands on the glass as I looked for some way to help. The whine grew to unbearably high levels, causing my ears to ring.

I couldn't hear her over the high-pitched whine, but I was pretty sure I heard Nanami cry out for help.

At this point, I was just as frantic. I pounded on the front of the TV as the static engulfed Chiaki. The whine was so loud, I fell to the floor and covered my ears. It grew excruciatingly loud as I felt my head buzz in synch with the noise.

I heard glass, cups, and light bulbs shatter behind me as the volume of the whine continued to climb. Then, all at once, it stopped and was replaced by the soft TV static from before.

"Chiaki?"

I pulled myself off the floor and put my face against the front of the TV, but could see nothing but static.

"Chiaki!" I called out, but received no answer. Nothing but static.

I could see a form materialize through the blizzard of pixels flying across the TV screen. I was pretty sure it was Chiaki again.

"Chiaki!"

Instead of Chiaki, I was met with a gruesome sight. The form materialized into the shape of the infamous Junko Enoshima, the cause of so much of my trauma. Her face was twisted into the most grotesque, wicked smile I've ever seen. It was almost as if someone took a knife and carved it out of her face. Her eyes were an inky black void that drew, no, sucked your gaze towards them.

I fell backwards and crawled away, unable to avert my gaze from her twisted face. I only stopped when I hit the wall behind me. As I did, Junko, or, whatever the thing in the TV was, lifted its hands and reached for me. Completely frozen with fear, I couldn't do anything except scream.

"We never finished our game, Hajime," I heard a distorted version of Junko's voice say. The form cackled sinisterly.

Her hands reached through the TV glass, causing it to ripple as if she had broken the still surface of a pond. Her hands took the shape of slender, black claws as they reached for me. The creature let out another cackle that deepened into a demonic roar.

Not sure of what else I could do, I grabbed my flashlight and threw it at the TV with all of my might. It shattered the flat-screen, causing it spark. The creature inside howled in pain as the TV fell backwards off its stand and hit the floor behind it with a loud crash. As soon as it did, all the lights in the apartment clicked on as if nothing had happened.

Completely shaken, I pulled myself to my feet. Other than the shattered flat-screen TV, everything seemed normal, as if nothing had happened. Other than the glass from the TV, there wasn't anything else that appeared to be broken. That didn't stop me from shivering from the experience.

I've had nightmares like this. I'd usually wake up screaming, my face soaked in a cold sweat. Before we moved in together, Hana would break down the door to get to me and sit with me all night, comforting me. It was the same story after she moved in. She'd sit up and do everything she could to calm me down, no matter how late it was.

I shuffled unsteadily over to the TV stand and peered behind it; I shook so badly that I could hardly stand, let alone walk. The flat-screen was obviously toast. The flashlight protruded from the shattered screen, and the rest of the screen had numerous cracks that resembled a spider's web. I unplugged it quickly, as sparks flew from the newly placed hole.

"How the hell am I gonna explain this to Hana," I muttered.

I ran my hands through my hair; I hadn't had a spell this bad since I started therapy with Dr. Brennen roughly three years ago. Not wanting to leave a mess for Hana to clean up in case she came home early, I quickly swept up what I could of the broken TV and threw it in the garbage bin beside the apartment.

I briskly wrote Hana a note explaining what happened, making sure to blame the damage on a "wobbly stand" rather than tell her the truth. I hated lying to her, but she already worried about me constantly. Thankfully, our TV wasn't an expensive model, so it would be cheap to replace.

After surveying the den for stray shards of glass, I packed up the parcels into the carrier and briskly walked out the door.

I trudged down the sidewalk. My legs felt as if they'd been shackled to a ball and chain as I made my way through the crowd. I could hear people going about their daily activity, acting as if I didn't even exist, and of course, the wheels of the little cart as I pulled it along behind me. My head throbbed, still sore from what had happened earlier.

I didn't want to even bother cashing the check, but stopped by the bank anyways. Once that deed was done, I dropped Hana's packages off at the post office and went to Dr. Brannen's office. The building was a neo-modern doctor's office that resembled a Rubik's cube balanced on a small square platform. I walked through the automatic doors where I was immediately greeted by the receptionist.

"Mr. Hinata! Good to see you," he said warmly. "My, you don't look so good. Don't tell me you're having more spells again."

"Uh-huh." I nodded as cold sweat rolled down my face.

"Your friends are already in the consultation room."

"Thanks."

I made my way down the all-too-familiar hallway to Dr. Brannen's consultation room. Already seated inside were a three of my fellow former students from Hope's Peak Academy, Sonia Nevermind, Kazuichi Soda, and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu. Initially, they had all been seeing separate psychiatrists, but had all been redirected to Dr. Brannen over the past year or so. In regards to psychiatric trauma, he was considered the best.

All three of them looked worse for wear. They all had bags under their eyes and looked like they hadn't slept all week. Sonia's once well-kept hair was a mess and its vibrant blonde color had dulled. Kazuichi looked half-dead and hardly even noticed Sonia. Fuyuhiko stood off in the corner with his arms crossed, a lit cigarette in his hand.

Sonia lit up a little when she noticed me walk in.

"Hajime," she greeted me. "It's good to see you! How's Hana doing?"

"She's fine," I answered weakly.

"Good God, Hinata, you look like a train wreck," Fuyuhiko remarked. "You had another episode today, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"Thought so. These doctors are nothin' but fucking quacks. After today, I'm not coming back."

"Don't say that," Sonia replied. "I'm sure Dr. Brannen-"

"What about Dr. Brannen? Soda's been going to him since he left Jabberwock Island, and look at him now! The guy's a fucking zombie!"

Fuyuhiko snuffed out his cigarette and sat down in the floor. Kazuichi put his hands over his face and started murmuring to himself.

"We shouldn't have left Jabberwock Island. We should've stayed and tried to wake them up. We shouldn't have let them take over!"

"We did everything we could," I said.

"Yeah, well it wasn't enough, was it? These guys don't know what we went through on that island. Our friends have been vegetating for the past four and a half years! And what have we done, huh?"

Fuyuhiko shoved over a potted fichus and stomped it in half.

"Stop it, Fuyuhiko!" Sonia asked aggressively.

The door opened and Dr. Brannen walked through.

"Woah, woah, what's going on in here?" he asked softly.

"I'm done, I'm fucking done!" Fuyuhiko yelled as he shoved his finger in Dr. Brannen's face.

"Calm down, Mr. Kuzuryu. Just...have a seat."

Dr. Brannen reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes. Fuyuhiko snatched them from the doctor and plopped down in a chair adjacent to Sonia.

"I take it none of you have made much progress this week," Dr. Brannen said solemnly as he scanned over our faces. "You especially, Mr. Kuzuryu."

"What about our friends?" Fuyuhiko interrogated.

Dr. Brannen's head drooped.

"No change. They're still comatose."

"No change? I thought you guys were supposed to be experts. If you ask me, I'd say you're keeping them that way on purpose and leeching off their families' insurance money."

"I assure you, Mr. Fuyuhiko it's not like-"

"Isn't it, Brannen?"

Dr. Brannen rubbed his forehead.

"I took you four off the billing cycle months ago. I promised you that I'd get all of you well again first, and then we'd talk payment."

Fuyuhiko lit a cigarette and put it to his lips.

"Then what are we? Some sort of experiment? What about these?"

Fuyuhiko pulled a disassembled cell phone, a handful of wires, and a watch battery from his pocket and laid them on the table. Dr. Brannen examined the pile with a bewildered look on his face.

"What am I looking at, Mr. Fuyuhiko?" Dr. Brannen asked.

"I found them in my apartment. This... stuff that's happening to us? The voices, the electronics going haywire... You're behind it all, aren't you?"

Dr. Brannen picked up the broken cell phone with a very confused face.

"Looks completely ordinary to me," Dr. Brannen said. "Except for the fact that it's in pieces."

Mr. Brannen took a small tablet computer from his lab-coat pocket and scribbled something down using a stylus.

"Mr. Fuyuhiko, I don't believe in doing this, but you're not leaving me much of a choice and I've done all I know to do. I'm afraid I'm going to have up your dosage of SNRIs and add chlorpromazine."

"I'm not taking any more shit from you," Fuyuhiko argued. "Look at what it's done to Soda."

"Soda's that way," Dr. Brannen argued back, "because he hasn't been taking his medication. You four were making progress up until the last month. I'm starting to think you're not following my instructions. I can't help you if you don't let me help."

Dr. Brannen typed on his laptop and let out a sigh.

"Now, have any of you had any more bad spells since we last met?"

"I thought I saw Peko again the other day," Fuyuhiko said. He seemed to be calmer. "I was in the grocery store. The guy at the register had the news on. And on the screen, I saw her face. Then, the electricity went haywire, lights flashed on and off. It was like something out of a bad horror flick. Next thing I know, I'm on the floor with the guy at the register standing over me."

Dr. Brannen transcribed the incident on his laptop. "What about you, Ms. Nevermind?"

"I had a really bad nightmare the other night," Sonia said. "I woke up to someone calling my voice. It's... it was crazy, I know. But it came from my clock radio. I unplugged it, but the voices wouldn't stop. They just kept on and on all night. Every time it gets quiet, I hear those voices..."

Dr. Brannen typed on his laptop some more. He then turned his attention to me.

"And you, Mr. Hinata. You were showing the greatest signs of improvement, but this morning, it seems as though you've suffered a relapse of some sort. Did something traumatic happen to you recently?"

"No," I answered. "I just... had another bad spell this morning."

"How bad?"

"Might've been my worst one, yet. I kept zoning out all morning, their voices talking to me."

"Your friends? From Hope's Peak?"

"Yeah. Hana had to snap me out of it."

"Ah, Hana, your girlfriend... How is your relationship with her? It hasn't been strained any, has it?"

"No, not at all," I answered. "If anything, she's been a saint, a pillar. But..."

"But what, Mr. Hinata?" I didn't answer. "You feel like a burden on her, don't you?"

I didn't answer, but my facial expression gave away my feelings. Dr. Brannen let out a long, worn-out sigh.

"I know I sound like a broken record, but a lot of your problems, all four of you... Yo-you, keep blaming yourselves. You keep piling all this unwarranted guilt on yourselves, and it just builds and builds, and eventually, you're gonna snap. That's another reason why Mr. Soda is the way he is now."

Dr. Brannen rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"Now, you said you had a violent episode this morning," he said. "But these voices, just sound to me like a normal episode."

"No-no, that wasn't all," I replied. "It was... worse. I was getting ready to take Hana's packages to the post office when the lights went out. I thought it was just the breaker, so I went to go check on it. That was when I heard her voice."

"Was it this..." Dr. Brannen scrolled through the notes on his laptop. "One of your classmates from Hope's Peak?"

I nodded.

"Chiaki Nanami. But I... I dunno. She was in my TV, and the TV was on."

"Your TV? How could the TV be on if you said the breaker went out?"

I laughed. "I know, right? But it was on and she was there."

"What happened next?"

"Well, she disappeared, and this, this... thing came out of the TV."

"Was this thing... Junko Enoshima?" I nodded. "Yeah, that seems to be a recurring face from all of you. Continue."

"At first, yeah, but then it turned into... hell I dunno how to describe it. Long story short, I wound up smashing the TV in with my flashlight."

Dr. Brannen took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Mr. Hinata, I've been doing some research on this Chiaki Nanami, and the only Chiaki Nanami we know of is the A.I. currently residing within Cybertech Research Institute."

"Cybertech?" I asked. "I just got hired on there this morning."

"Oh? Congratulations, I sub-contract through them. We scanned through all the recovered data that was recovered at Jabberwock, and we never found any records of the A.I. Chiaki Nanami ever being there."

Dr. Brannen then pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it.

"I even got permission from the company president to conduct an extensive interview with the A.I. and it doesn't know of anyone fitting any of your descriptions."

"That's because it's not the Chiaki that was a Jabberwock. She couldn't have been."

"Honestly, it's... the weirdest thing. So far, everything all four of you have told me checks out. This alter-ego Junko, as you call her, Team Danganronpa... We found backups of those files on the hard-drive the rescue team recovered. But this, Chiaki Nanami, is the only piece of the puzzle that doesn't seem to fit."

Sonia, Fuyuhiko, and I all scowled at Dr. Brannen.

"Now, please don't get mad, some of the data that we did find at Jabberwock was corrupted, but so far, only a small amount of it was rendered completely unrecoverable. And the data size for an A.I. is... enormous. It takes an eight-hundred petabyte hard-drive to keep the Chiaki Nanami at Cybertech functioning properly. The only irrecoverable files from Jabberwock were just a few gigabytes in size and appeared to just be backup codes for this alter-ego Junko, so we'd definitely miss data like that, even if it were deleted."

"How would you know that?" Fuyuhiko asked. He snuffed out his cigarette and stood up. "Enoshima could've erased all evidence-"

"Not anything that size," Dr. Brannen argued. "Data that enormous doesn't just... disappear, when it's deleted. There are always shadows, traces of it. Kind of like the dinosaurs. We find bones, footprints of them. It's the same with data. Even if it was transferred, something at least residual would have had to have been left."

"Unless it wasn't deleted, or was moved somewhere like you mentioned," Sonia said.

"Even then, there'd be something left, like a 'footprint'," Dr. Brannen answered. He typed more on his tablet. "I don't know if it'll help any, but would you like to see your friends before you leave?"

"No, thank you," I answered.

All of us were silent for what felt like hours, then Dr. Brannen stood to his feet.

"Honestly, I'm at a loss at what else I can do for you," Dr. Brannen said solemnly. "I thought we were making progress, but your symptoms... it's like nothing I'm doing is helping."

"I haven't slept well in long time," Sonia said groggily. "Isn't there something, anything, you can do?"

"Like I said, he's just a quack," Fuyuhiko sneered. "I'm outta here."

Fuyuhiko walked out the door, slamming it as he left.

"I guess that ends our session," Dr. Brannen said. "You three have my cell number, right?"

Sonia and I both nodded, but Soda just slumped over forward as if he were drunk.

"If you have any more serious spells, please call me."

Sonia and I both left the building together; we couldn't get Soda up off the couch.

"I guess I'll go home, then," Sonia said with a yawn. "Hajime, you and Hana should come hang out some time."

I smiled weakly.

"We will. You go home and try to get some rest. I've got to head home myself."

Sonia yawned again and meandered off in the opposite direction. I waited until she was out of sight, then headed towards the apartment myself.

When I finally got there, I discovered that the front door was slightly cracked open.

"Hmm, Hana must've come home early," I thought.

"Hana, I'm home," I announced as I walked into the door.

I couldn't help but feel uneasy as I stepped into our little apartment building. It was also eerily quiet; Hana typically had music play from either her phone or computer when she was home alone. I shook it off as just a case of the jitters from the episode I had earlier that morning.

"Hana?" I called out. "Hana!"

I cautiously looked around. Nothing was out of place, save for the missing TV that I had smashed that morning. I made my way towards the bathroom, but found the door wide-open and the lights off; she definitely wasn't in there.

"Hana!" I called again. "Are you home?"

Maybe Hana hadn't really come home and I simply forgot to lock the door... No, I distinctly remembered locking it as I left. As I walked towards the kitchen, I saw Hana's train pass lying on the table; she was definitely home, or at least she had been home at some point while I was gone.

I picked it up to look at it when I noticed an ominous clue, a few tiny droplets of a red substance. I looked down and saw a trail of small red splotches leading into the kitchen.

Panic shot through me as I threw the pass down and bolted into the kitchen. As I ran through the doorway, I slipped on the wet floor. I fell backwards and hit my back and head hard on the linoleum floor, but was only dazed from the blow. I put my hands on the floor to prop myself up, but felt something wet and slimy coating the floor under me.

As my vision stopped spinning, I immediately noticed what it was, blood. It was smeared everywhere, all over the floor, walls, and countertops. It was as if someone had slit a pig's throat and let it run wild through the kitchen until it bled to death.

Horrified, I scrambled to my feet. If this was another one of my episodes, it was the worst one yet, hands-down. Then I heard a sickening thud at the other end of the kitchen as something heavy hit the floor. I turned slowly to see what it was...

The sight... the blood... I couldn't handle it. Weak and woozy, I fell to my knees as sheer horror and despair overtook me. Lying on the ground, her legs tied together and in a pool of her own blood, was Hana. Her legs had been tied together and she had been strung up on the top cabinet, until the door gave way. Her wrists and throat had been cut.

Trembling violently, I tried to pull myself back to my feet using the counter, but my hand hit a sheet of paper. I grabbed it and read it.

"Hajime, I didn't get the commission. I can't take it anymore. I'm sorry," it read.

My eyes welled over with tears as I skimmed over the note a second time, but as I skimmed over it, I noticed something very peculiar about the note...

I'd known Hana for only a few short years, but I felt like I've known her all my life. Being an artist, she was very particular about the stationery she used. She never kept ordinary pens in the house; they were always fountain pens filled with black ink. This note was written in blue ink, and its stroke was like that of an ordinary cheap pen you'd get for free from a bank.

Another thing, the note was written in neatly-printed English. Hana was capable of writing in English, but on the rare occasions she did so, it was always in cursive, as her printed English writing was atrocious and looked like it was written by a child.

After examining this important clue, I started noticing other vital pieces of evidence. Hana's wrists had been cut with a straight-edged knife. All the knives in the apartment were serrated and we didn't even own any straight-edged knives. She also couldn't have possibly tied herself up in that position by herself.

Another crucial evidence against this "suicide" was the fact that the note hinted that she hadn't gotten the commission, and yet the painting was nowhere to be seen in the apartment anywhere when I walked through the door. It would've been incredibly noticeable to see a large thirty-six by forty-eight canvas lying around.

Of course, some would've deduced that she could've become so distraught from her apparent "rejection" that she had thrown it away or had given it away to a random bystander, but they didn't know my Hana. She always took setbacks in stride and wouldn't have resorted to something so petty for simply being rejected once. After all, the walls were covered by her previous "rejections" and she displayed them proudly.

And finally, sticking out of the trashcan, was the last piece of evidence that displaced any and all doubt that Hana could've done this to herself. Ripped and stained in blood was a contract, a very valuable contract, from the very company Hana had been in contact with for months. The contract may have been torn in half, but it was still discernable. She'd not only gotten the commission, but the company had contracted her for printing rights for several of her paintings.

Rage replaced despair at this point as my growing suspicions were confirmed, Hana had been murdered, and in an incredibly brutal manner. Who would do something so... so horrible, to a person like Hana? Unfortunately, I was about to get my answer.

As I pulled out my cellphone and tapped in the number for the police, someone grabbed me from behind. I struggled, but he jabbed me in the arm with a syringe.

I fought like a bear for the last few seconds I could move. I slammed my attacker into the counters and refrigerator in a desperate attempt to get them off of me, but ultimately, I fell limp. He must've injected me with something that induced paralysis.

I fell limp, but was still semi-conscious enough to see my attacker. It was a large man in a black suit. He looked down at me with the most evil grin I've ever witnessed on the face of any living person. He reached inside of his suit, pulled out a small glass of chloroform, and soaked the rag.

Before I could do anything, he bent down, put the chloroform-soaked rag to my face, and whispered, "Welcome to Cybertech..."


End file.
